


Your Tears in My Dreams

by emotionalcello



Series: Do You Love Me? [11]
Category: Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Childhood Friends, M/M, No Sex, Not Beta Read, Romance, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, no fluff on this one boys, not dangerous?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-14 19:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20606174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionalcello/pseuds/emotionalcello
Summary: His best friend always has that smile. Bright and refreshing like a can of cold soda on a hot and humid summer. But one day, when they were walking down the halls to class. Jon stopped, and for once in Damian life, he saw Jon cried.----Dick cleared his throat, his darting eyes finally landed on his jade eyes, “Why do you want to know now?”“Curiosity,” Damian shrugged, “I’ve never seen him cried before, that was the only time he did and I forgot why he did.”“You think it’s your fault?”“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I'm baffled that this is only the second work I put for this ship.... and the last one is so bad....  
So, this is like my retribution work for that one bad Damijon fic.
> 
> Enjoy?

Jon was his best friend and the only friend that ever counted, but their relationship didn’t start smoothly. As a privileged nine-year-old boy that only knew about the expectation he’s meant to fulfill in a world of adults, Jon’s sincere friendly approach was extraterrestrial.

Yet, no matter how much Damian pushed, Jon insisted. To Damian, Jon was nothing but an important acquaintance, a son of his father's important friend, a high-profile journalist, Clark Kent. Damian had understood the political need to befriend each other, but Jon never saw it that way.

Jon is always as bright as the sun when he smiles. All his frontal teeth would show, and the one crooked teeth on the top right sticks out more than the rest. The apple of his cheeks becomes prominent whenever he’s too excited, and blushes just like roses in full bloom whenever they run, or if it’s a hot day. His eyes would shine like clear lakes under the high noon. Strands of his raven-black soft curls bounce cheerfully and sweep through the wind like feathers whenever he moves.

Always, Jon would smile through the rain, through the bad scores he gets, and through the wounds that he gets whenever they’re playing too rough.

His best friend always has that smile. Bright and refreshing like a can of cold soda on a hot and humid summer day.

But one day, when they were walking down the halls to class. Jon stopped, and for once in Damian’s life, he saw Jon cry.

It was the first and the last time Damian saw him that way.

The memory comes in as a dream, played like a slow-motion clip that lasted forever. Long enough that at one point, Damian asked why Jon cried, which of course, Jon in his dream didn’t make a sound any other sound than sobbing. But when Damian woke up, it felt like it lasted a second. Like every dream, Damian thought he’ll forget it after a few seconds of being awake. But this time, the way Jon looks at him with his sorrowful eyes and downturned lips, he stays like that for the whole day, and the day after that, and so on.

Damian can still feel chills down his spine from how deeply Jon’s eyes pierce through his soul. His black loose curls are always disheveled because he likes to nap at break time. His tears stick to his lush lashes and glisten like morning dew on blades of grass under the light of dawn. His tightened jaw as if to hold his voice. Bawling with a heavy stream of tears rolling down his red apple cheeks.

Every detail of that moment would never be forgotten, but only that one frame, in that perspective that felt prolonged forever. Damian can’t remember anything more after or before that.

To be expected of course. After all, that happened ten years ago.

++++++

“Ah, Master Damian, I didn’t expect you for another day,” the family butler, Alfred, called from the library where he’s been cleaning. He takes off his usual suit and only wears his white button-up with sleeves rolled.

“Sorry for the unexpected arrival, I’ll clean the room myself.”

“Was there something urgent, sir?” Alfred is as sharp as ever. Damian missed that about him.

“Yes, I’ll ask you about it later.”

Then Damian continues to walk down the halls and into his room. The room is still fairly clean. He’s touched that Alfred cleans his room even though he hasn’t stayed the night in the manor for years. Whenever he has business trips in Gotham, he always stays in a nearby hotel and only comes for a quick dinner together, only if that family is in town.

It’s been forever since he last entered this room, just by the whiff of the scent it already felt like a blast from the past.

Back when the politics of his country were heated and dangerous, Damian was sent here to seek refuge. His family’s company, the League of Al-Ghuls, was caught between the heat. Though now that he’s older, he knew that his family participates in that political war. That’s why Damian’s life was in danger.

So, he was sent to a place owned by a father he never knew he had at nine years old. It was not expected that he had grown fond of the place and elongated his stay until his mother demanded him to come back to have proper education by her standards.

Ever since he was a child, he was meant to continue the family business. Now he’s considered perfectly weaned and is being trusted to have good judgment for the benefit of their empire. It is how their family is. It is what Damian had accepted with consent. Then life just swept Damian away.

The last time he was in this room, he was 15. There’s a picture of him and Jon by his desk. A thin layer of dust accumulated at the top of the frame. It’s a picture of them on a school trip to Ocean City. Jon had many friends beside Damian, but he wanted to take a picture together first.

Damian cracked a smile, seeing little Jon wearing his dad’s bright blue bucket hat on top of his awry hair, and a smile bright like the sea on their background.

He looked for his old stuff. Pictures, diaries, books, anything that can give him a clue. When he’s checking one of his bookcases, there’s a row dedicated to journals, textbooks, and sketchbooks. He recognizes some of the journals’ spine. As he takes it out, his heart starts racing.

It’s his diaries, not just any diaries, though. He used to exchange them with Jon. They would write about their day and give them to each other once a week, or sometimes once a month. It was Jon’s idea from an old Japanese comic he bought from a discount box. It was ridiculous and Damian had thought it was intrusive.

Damian doesn’t know how Jon can talk him into sharing his personal thoughts with someone. Expressing his feelings has not been his strong suit, but writing it is another story. It’s easier to tell his secrets to inanimate objects that’ll never judge him. Damian goes along with it because he likes reading Jon’s diary. Usually filled with dad jokes his father told him and things he gets in trouble for. The way Jon writes is just like how he talks with all his quirks and slang.

The tradition didn’t last their whole friendship, though. Some time into their teens, they stopped exchanging their diaries.

Though Jon never asked for his diary again, Damian kept writing out of habit. His brown covered journal, the last one, is a diary he never gave to Jon.

Flipping through the pages, he noticed that he didn’t write them on a regular basis. Some are days apart, some weeks, even months. Most of them are from 2009 to 2010. The only content in there is frustration, anger, and self-pity of which he’s too proud to tell anyone else.

Right at the last entry that stops in the middle of his journal, he finds the one he’s been looking for.

‘17 November 2010

Something absolutely bizarre happened today. Jon cried. I was lost for words at seeing him cry for the first time since I have ever known him. Jon is not one who cries easily, or ever. He’s strong and he had pulled through a lot of misfortune that happened to him with only a frown or anger. He had a very deep wound on his forearm from scraping it against a loose nail on a plank. He was bleeding a lot but he just hissed and screamed in pain, in that process, he shed a tear, but it was not ‘crying’. Even when his father scolded him badly after we went to town and were there till 4 AM, all he did was frown.

We were just talking as we headed to our class. I didn’t ask why at first. He was terribly sad and I’m afraid of saying the wrong words. So, I just patted his back and took him somewhere people won't see. I don’t want him to feel embarrassed if someone sees him like that when he clearly needed to cry. Maybe he’s been holding back something that he didn’t tell me.

It was also the first time I ever missed class. Of course, my mother will be more upset about this more than my father, but I did not feel regretful. Jon needed me for once, and the consequences are light compared to the situation. Though I will not enjoy the incoming international call.’

And that’s it.

Damian sighed in defeat and disappointment with his fifteen-year-old self. He admits, he was not the most emotionally intelligent child back then. Even so, this means Damian is worried over Jon’s well being more than what caused it. Jon was precious to him at that point, even more than his duty as an Al-Ghul.

Since his own diary doesn’t reveal what he’s been looking for, he would need to ask from someone else.

++++

‘I’ll be staying in the manor for approximately a week, I hope it’s okay.’

‘Of course, you’re more than welcome. I’ll be home for dinner.’

‘Alright, I’ll tell Alfred to anticipate you.’

“Who’re you texting with?” his older brother, Dick came to the living room with a big jug of tea. His hair is a mess as always whenever he’s back home, and a wardrobe just as hideous. It’s six months too early to be wearing an ugly Christmas sweater, and Dick paired it with skimpy boxer shorts.

Damian had come to terms with it only because Dick is his favorite brother.

“Is it a speeecial someone? Maybe someone... who is not your wife?” Dick raised his eyebrows scandalously and takes a loud slurp of his tea.

Damian scoffed up a chuckle, “You know my relationship with my wife is strictly business, she has her own set of lovers.”

“I still can’t understand what’s the point in marriage, if it’s only for business purposes.”

“Politics in an Al-Ghul family is different from a typical American one. It’s why my mother became Wayne for a short yet beneficial time before their scheduled divorce, and conceived me, just as she planned.”

“I... still can’t wrap my head around that. Family isn’t politics.”

“I’ve come to know that thanks to you, and this family.”

Damian gave him a thankful smile, melting his brother’s heart. Really, they’ve come a long way. The one that really taught him the meaning of love and family is the Waynes.

“Then where is your own set of ‘lovers’” Dick looks up and closes his eyes dreamily.

“And why would I told you about my affairs?” Dick gasped, putting a hand on his chest, again, this particular sibling always able to make him crack a smile, “I was texting father, in case you’re still wondering, he’ll be home for dinner.”

“Good to know you’re on good terms! When did this happen?”

“Ironically, by being his business partner I get to see him and talk to him more than when I was just his son.”

Dick burst a fit of laughter, almost spilling his hot tea on his bare thigh.

“So, I heard you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yes, I hope I’m not taking your time from work.”

“No! Tomorrow’s Sunday, and I do visits on weekends when I can.”

“And the others?”

“Well, you know our siblings, they come when they can, but they’re all busy doing their own thing. Jason’s on tour. Tim won't be back for a year, a project in France. Duke’s with Doctors Without Borders. Steph...” Dick trails and makes a face.

Damian’s jaw hits the floor, “Don’t tell me, she married him?”

Dick chuckled, “Yup, now she’s in the middle of a jungle in Indonesia, teaching anyone that needs it.”

Damian shook his head with a defeated smile, “Last time I was here, even the mansion felt crowded with... were there six of us? Now it feels a bit empty.”

“Well, little hatchlings ought to leave the nest sooner or later,” Dick rubs his head. “So, you wanted to talk to me, but it’s not about reminiscing the past, isn’t it?”

Damian smirked, ever the detective.

“On the contrary, it does have something to do with that, but not about our family,” Damian takes a deep breath as quietly as he can, “You’re the one I talked to the most when I was a child.”

Dick squints his eyes, “Yeeees?”

“I was wondering if I ever said anything about Jon in particular.”

“Jon? As in Jonathan Kent? Your bestie?”

“Yes, Dick, Jonathan Kent. Is there something wrong?”

“No no! Just... it’s been so long since you talk about him.”

Damian just shrugs.

Dick put his cup of tea down on the table and narrowed his eyebrows, “Alright? What do you need?”

“I believe I had a fight with Jon, or maybe I made him so upset that he cried. Did I ever talk about these things with you?”

Dick sighed and tipped his jaw to the side and raised his eyebrows, already at loss, “You were totally mega best friends with Jon. Honestly, I can’t choose, you were complaining about him a lot.”

“Only at first,” Damian chuckled, remembering again, “He was not the friend I asked for, but among all the wrong buttons he pushed, once, he pushed the right one.”

“And that is?”

“He treats me like a child, but as an equal, and expects nothing of me. Most of all, he’s incredibly patient.”

Dick is making a face, biting his lips from smiling too widely. Damian rolled his eyes and his older brother keeps him to himself.

“Ahem, did you know when you made him cry?”

“My diary said it was November 17th of 2010.”

“I think I was in Barbados with Barbara then, for the honeymoon?”

“That’s right, I wouldn’t have called you then.”

Dick cleared his throat, his darting eyes finally landed on his jade eyes, “Damian, why do you want to know now?”

“Curiosity,” Damian shrugged, “I’ve never seen him cried before, that was the only time he cried and I forgot why he did.”

“You think it’s your fault?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

++++++

“As in Jonathan Kent?”

“Yes, Alfred. I don’t think I befriend any other Jon. Or any other person,” Damian chuckled lightly.

“I have not heard you talk about sir Jonathan in a very long time.” Alfred grabs the plates, and Damian grabs the utensils.

“Dick said that too. It’s just something I’m curious about.” Damian puts the spoons and forks on the sides of the plates on the dining table.

“When did this happen?” Alfred asked as he gets a bowl of salad with beans while Damian grabs a bowl of baked creamy mushroom penne.

“We were 15.”

“That’s ten years ago, Master Damian, why does it matter now?”

The question stabs through his chest like a dull knife, “No, it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not late to dinner, am I?” A man walks in with a suit in his hand, loose tie around his neck and an open button at the collar. The middle-aged man smiles when he sees Damian there.

“I’m impressed you’re not,” Damian put his hand on his hip.

“I’ve missed eating dinner with you a lot. I’m not gonna miss you again when you finally decide to visit your old man.”

“I’ve seen you a lot, father.”

“As Bruce Wayne, a business associate, not as your dad.” Bruce put a hand on Damian’s head and rubs it. As annoying as it is that his father ruined his coiffed hair, it always feels comforting to be patted on the head. The sensation will remain a mystery.

“I’ll put my things away and get Dick,” Bruce announced and walks out of the kitchen.

There’s a pulsing throb in his chest. His eyes are on the door his father walks out from but his feet stay rooted in their place. Damian has gone this far, it’ll be a waste not to try. So, he chased his father down and meets him in the hallway.

“Father,” he called, and Bruce turns around, “There’s a reason I’m visiting.”

“I figured. You don’t usually stay in the Manor if it’s not for the holidays, and our conference will only take two meetings.”

“I took a few days off after we’re done with the trade.”

His father knits his thick eyebrows together, looking concerned, “Why are you taking days off? That’s unlike you.”

Now Damian felt foolish. The matter feels even more trivial now, Damian finally sees that. He flew over for a conference that could’ve been done by his close peers just so he can ask his family about his ‘dream’. His father is right, this is unlike him. How did he even get here? Damian had hesitated before. Brushing off ever coming back to Gotham unless it’s for business purposes. Even during the holidays, he’ll never force himself to spare the time to come, and if he does, it’s never longer than two days.

But this time, before he gets to hesitate, he was already on the way here.

“It’s alright, Damian, you can ask anything,” His father comforted, already treating it seriously.

With a heavy heart, Damian raises his shoulders, “It’s just.... something that incites my curiosity, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“Let me judge that after you tell me.”

Damina bites his lips, crossing his arms and hold onto his elbows tightly. Eyes darting around, before he finally just let it out.

“It’s about Jon.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows, lips parted open and eyes widen, “Jon,” the man breathes. “As in that Jonath-”

“Yes, Jonathan Kent, son of your best friend Clark Kent,” Damian said with a firm and irritated voice. Sighing, he cleared his throat, “Something happened when we were kids. I know Jon. He’s always bright and happy, but I remembered that he cried in front of me once, and he looked devastated. I don’t remember if I ever asked him why. That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

His father’s sharp eyes soften as he noticeably holds his breath, “Damian...” he called gently, “You know what happened when you were kids.”

Damian paused, breathing mindfully as if to stay calm, and he managed to squeeze out: “This is before that... in 2010”

“That’s ten years a-”

“I know,” Damian raises his voice, frustrated. He knows it’s silly of him to ask about an uncertain memory from ten years ago, but... “I just wanted to ask if I ever told you about Jon crying. Please just tell me if you remember or not.”

Though Damian already knows his father wouldn’t have known anything. Bruce was a distant father when Damian was a child. His only friends were Dick, and Jon who he thought was a beneficial ‘friend’.

It doesn’t hurt to try to ask, Damian thought. Somewhere in his childhood, he forgot when he and his father tried to mend their rocky relationship. Even though they don’t share the same last name, they are family.

“You did mention it to me,” Bruce said, and Damian’s heart jumps.

“Do you remember what I said?”

“Yes,” Bruce chuckled, “You were in a sour mood. I thought it was because of something I’d done again.”

Damian huffed with the corner of his quirking up, “We weren’t always rainbows and roses, but this one is not because of that, right?”

“No, you told me about Jon. You’re upset with him, not angry or irritated. You always know what to do, but at that time, you didn’t.”

“Me? Upset with Jon?”

“Not as in at Jon. You told me that Jon is keeping secrets from you, and you’re upset because of that.”

_“Now can you tell me why you cried?”_

_Jon finally stops crying, and his deep frown turns around, but this smile is not the same. His red-rimmed eyes look at Damian with his clear blue irises pooled in tears like overflowed ponds._

_ It feels like the world stopped in that quiet gymnasium they snuck into._

_“I don’t think I can ever tell you why,” Jon’s voice croaks weakly._

_“What? You don’t trust me?”_

_“No, Dami...I’m just afraid.”_

_“Of what? What could’ve scared you enough to not let me know?”_

_“I can’t tell you! Just, drop it! Okay?” Jon burst, and immediately looks guilty. He folds his arms and leans away from Damian who’s left puzzled._

_Damian is angry, but mostly, disappointed? He thought Jon is close enough to lean on him, but it certainly doesn’t seem so. Even in anger, Damian doesn’t have it in him to leave. After years of writing diaries, it doesn’t feel as heavy now to tell at least a snippet of sentimentality to Jon... In vocal form._

_“Fine, keep your secrets, what is a man without a few? But know this Jon. You are a person that is dear to me, dare I say even more than my family. You’re the most treasured friend of mine, and I only wish to ease the pain that you’re feeling.”_

_Jon wails so loud that his voice echoes in the empty gymnasium. He can’t believe Jon’s still able to shed even more tears after the previous wave of pouring rain. Damian holds his breath and leans away, the guilt makes him uncomfortable being this close to Jon. He might just make things worse. Let’s never say his feelings out loud again, he had learned his lesson._

_Just as Damian was about to scoot away, Jon loops his arms around Damian and squeezes tight._

_“Stay with me for a bit. I know your mom would be angry, but can you skip class?”_

_Damian scoffs. Jon asked as if Damian would say no, which is absurd. Damian put his hand on top of Jon’s while the other is on his back. A wet patch is growing on Damian’s chest where Jon pressed his shut eyes. Warm stuttering breath felt through the shirt and onto Damian’s skin. Closing his eyes, Damian buries his face in Jon’s soft black curls._

_Jon smelled like the sun._

_“Yes, I can Jon.”_

The memories come slowly, it’s not as clear as the dreams, but it’s one puzzle piece among many, and this one fits where it should be.

“Did I say anything else?” Damian leans closer.

“I asked what would you do about it, but you just shrugged. You’re quiet for a few days and then Jon started to come over again.”

Damian sighed a breath he didn’t know he’s been holding. Now he remembers what happened after, but he still doesn’t know why Jon cried. Jon couldn’t have started crying out of nowhere. Must’ve been something he saw, or something Damian said to him.

“Why does it matter now?” His father asked, rubbing salt on his wounds.

Damian clenches his hand, “I dreamt it, I thought I’d forget it later, but I didn’t,” he confessed, “I couldn’t sleep... I feel restless remembering that I had done him wrong, that I had made him cry and not knowing why. I wanted to seek the reason and say I’m sorry.”

“Then why don’t you visit the Kents?”

Damian’s whole body tensed, “No, I can’t. Something this trivial, I can’t possibly-”

“It certainly isn’t trivial for you if you can’t sleep because of it.”

“It’s my own fault, I shouldn’t bother them for something like this.”

Sighing, Bruce puts his hand on Damian’s shoulder, “They’ve asked about you whenever I met them, they care about you enough to worry. They’ll be delighted to see you.”

Damian bites his lips, still hesitant, “You think so?”

“I know so, I’ll call them to expect you.”

“It’s okay, I’ll do it myself. They still live in the same apartment?”

“No, they live in their farmhouse permanently now.”

“Thank you, I’ll call them after our deal is done,” Damian stated.

“They’ll welcome you, there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

Even so, Damian can’t stop the uneasiness piled up in his chest, “I hope so.”


	2. Chapter 2

Four days of tedious meetings with Wayne Enterprise later, Damian has finally done his duty as the League of Al-Ghul’s representation.

Now, he’s on the front gate of Kent’s farm and walking down the dirt path to the front door. The house is a typical American farmhouse. Everything is the same except the rows of potted plants on the front porch and the different paint of the house. It used to be deep blue color, now it’s creamy yellow. The wooden fences were painted blue, and now the paint is mostly chipped away.

From the pathway, Damian can see the sunflower field behind the house. It looks identical as he remembered only shorter and smaller in his eyes now. It stretches from the far left starting from a barn and to the far right. There used to be two horses in that barn where Jon and he would ride a brown mare named Macey, and sometimes the white stallion Jackie.

The Kent’s farmhouse was supposed to be their vacation house. Damian had come here for summer vacation to spend time in nature and play around with Jon. His happy memories here were running into the sunflower field, playing tag. Riding on top of the tractors while Mr. Kent drives. Picnics under their favorite ginormous oak tree, while working on their summer homework. Helping Mrs. Kent hang the laundry and playing hide and seek between the sheets.

It was a place where he allowed himself to be a child.

The front door opens before Damian gets to reach the porch. A beaming smile from a woman whose face barely changes greets him.

“Damian! It’s been so long.” The woman steps out to the front porch, with her pink apron over a checkered red dress and folded sleeves on her arms that are open to greet him.

Her black hair is long now, blown by the breeze and swaying like the sunflower field behind her humble house.

Damian speed walks across the path and hugs her. She wraps her arms around him tightly. Though he’s taller than her now, he still feels like that small and fragile boy under her motherly arms.

“Hello to you too Lois, you’ve been well?”

“I am,” She lets go and opens the door, “Come inside, have you eaten lunch?”

“I have.”

“Coffee or tea then? Maybe a little snack? I’m baking my apple pie since I know you’re coming.”

“Lois, you shouldn’t have, I don’t want to bother you too much.”

“None of that! It’s been too long since I last saw you, you never even visit.” Lois then stopped and looks at Damian from top to bottom. “You’ve grown into such a looker!” she slaps Damian’s arm playfully.

“Thank you,” Damian flustered.

Damian walks into the house after her. The open kitchen is on the left, while the sofa and tv is on the right, just like he remembered. There’s barely any changes around. The floor plan and decoration are still in the same place, even the pictures on the walls are the same arrangement. There are only a few pieces of furniture changed to something new.

“Is Clark home?”

“No, he’s at work, but he’s coming home early today if you’d like to stay and say hi.”

“I’ll do that, thank you for welcoming me.”

“Oh don’t be so uptight! I take it you’re not here only to see us, are you?” Lois smiles lightly, warm and bright, like her son’s.

“No, I’m here to ask about Jon.”

Her pale pink lips parted and she steps back a little, “Oh? You are?” Lois is noticeably stupefied.

“Yes. I believe I might’ve said something upsetting to Jon ten years ago.”

“Upsetting? Were you fighting?”

“No, we never fight,” Despite Damian always rejecting Jon’s friendship at first, the fight was always one-sided.

“But that day, I made him cry, and I can’t remember what I said or did,” Damian admits, taking a deep breath and looks up to meet Lois’s eyes.

Her smile is no more, but her eyes warm and welcoming are giving him her full attention.

“I was wondering if he ever told you why he cried. If he told you something I’ve said?”

Lois sighed and put her hand of Damian’s arm, rubbing it with her thumb.

“Wait here,” She said before walking down the halls and disappearing into Jon’s room. She returns with a book in her hand.

“He never told me that he cried in front of you, but I believe the answer you’re seeking is in here,” she hands him a book with mixed patterns on the cover. It looks like a diary, and it’s definitely not a diary they exchanged to each other, because Damian had never seen this one before.

“Is it okay for me to read something so private?”

“You need it, and he’ll understand. I think he’ll even thank me.” Lois winks.

His hands hesitated, before finally taking it from Lois’ hands, “Thank you. Where’s Jon?”

“Under the oak tree behind the house.”

“Ah, our tree,” Damian cracks a smile, he misses that spot, “I’ll go see him.”

Lois clenches his hands on top of her chest, long lashes flutter before she reaches out and lands her hand on his shoulder. “Alright,” she states softly, as if unsure, “Alright, don’t stay out too late now!” she says clearer and smiles.

Damian spares a curl of a smile, and can only nod gratefully to her before walking out the door.

With the book in his hand, Damian stops by the steps down the porch. He sits there and reads the diary first before going around the house.

It felt like trespassing someone’s private life. They usually read each other’s diaries but Jon didn’t give him this one himself.

After pondering for a few minutes, in the end, his curiosity wins. The book contains his goal and reason for going out of his way to come here. And if Lois, who knows her son the most, gave this to him to read, it means that it’s really okay. He opens the cover and reads the first page.

‘January 1st, 2010

My dearest diary,

From now on, we only have each other, it’ll be one of my New Year’s resolutions. First, I can’t give you to Damian anymore, because--’

Damian looks away, already regretting reading that part. Whatever Jon writes here, he doesn’t want Damian to know, and he has to honor that. Damian just needs to know what happened on 17th November 2010.

The diary starts on the first of January. Jon always has a new resolution every year and, as suspected of most people, forgets it in mid-January. This has got to be the only one Jon followed through.

Not wanting to probe any more than he needed to, Damian flips the pages and only looks for the dates. Then he finally found it, at least he thought he did. The dates jump, further and further towards the end of the year. The entry Damian was looking for was the first entry in two months.

November 18th, 2010

_I did something stupid yesterday. I can’t believe I cried in front of Damian, and I couldn’t stop for the love of. I thought I was getting better at hiding it, but at that moment everything just bursted out and I wasn’t in control anymore. Damian told me he’s going back when he graduates high school. That’s two years away in his fancy smart class, in his even fancier and more prestigious high school his mom made him enroll in. I’m already busting my ass to get to the same high school, but I don’t think I can graduate at the same time as Damian. As much as I HATE to admit it, I’m just not as smart as Damian!_

_Can’t he just hit the brakes or something? I know he’s smart, but it’s like he’s rushing to get out of my face or something._

No, Damian never wanted to leave. His mother had demanded his return as quickly as possible, that’s why he was rushing.

_I was already tearing up when he said he’ll be leaving... I had hoped we could get into the same university. I thought I had more time. But then he told me he had no choice. He was bound to return and continue his family’s weird tradition of making him do these things they’ve already set him to do. Then he told me about a fiancée that was chosen for him. He started talking about something else but I didn’t listen, because I was already bursting into tears._

_I know it’s still too soon for marriage talks, we’re 15! He’s 15! But then it’s just so sudden. Damian just accepts it as it is... He’ll go along with it. It’s one of those weird lists his mom made him do, but he wants to do it, and I hate that I can’t blame anyone. It just hits me hard that Damian is not someone like me or someone that can never like me._

<strike> _It was so embarrassing. He thought it was his fault, but I don’t know... I was just crying because_ </strike>

_Diary, I’m so thankful that you’ll never judge me. I can say anything I want and you’ll accept me. If only I can ask you something... to tell me if I’m wrong or not, whether or not I should give up. I’m afraid, but just accepting it as it is… it’s so lonely... I don’t feel like going to school. I’m not ready to see him yet. I don’t think I can remain calm seeing him again. There are just so many things I’m sad about but I can’t tell him about it, and you can’t do anything but listen. It’s not enough!_

<strike> _I just wanted to have a chance_ </strike>

<strike> _Should I just go for it? And let the consequences be damned? I’m just sick of feeling hidden like this. I can’t lie well._ </strike>

<strike> _I’m afraid of telling my parents... the pastor always told us that_ </strike>

<strike> _I just feel like a weirdo, like I’m broken. I’d hate it if Dami thought I was sick too and started avoiding me like I was a virus I’d rather_ </strike>

<strike> _What am I going to do? I don’t want anything to change with Dami I just can’t and I’m lost I don’t know how_ </strike>

_Diary, will I ever be ready?_

_When the time comes for me to attend his wedding, can I bear the pain of seeing someone I love marry another?_

Damian stopped breathing, and re-read the last sentences. Then re-read the whole entry. And each time he reads them, something chokes him. It’s hard to hold onto the book when there’s no strength left in his hands. He exhales a shaky breath and looks away from the letters on his lap.

He knows he promised not to read any more than what he needed. Damian already got the answer he was seeking, but the next entry is the last one. Lois did give him the whole book, and Damian uses that reason for his justification.

‘_January 1st, 2011_

_Damian used to tease me for having New Year’s resolutions. Well, tough luck on him! I wanted to keep this diary from him for a year as a resolution, and I did it!_

_As for this year's resolution, it’s going to be harder. But I need to do this... I just need to._

_I’ll confess to Damian, but I don’t think I can ever say it without incoherently stuttering and sobbing and shaking like a newborn fawn taking its first step. Because this is, in a way, a first step for me... He’s going to be the first one to know, after my parents of course._

_I’ve never been so sure. I’ve talked about it with my parents, and I’ve never felt so grateful to have them in my life at that moment. I love them for not avoiding me or even worse, putting me in a camp like I’ve seen on the internet. Their love for me is so limitless that I finally have the courage to at least... confess in some way, but I’m still really scared though._

_There’s where you came in handy diary. I’m going to give you to him, and he’s going to read everything I’ve been hiding from him. How it all started, all my fears, and the things I’ve been hiding, and my secret feelings for him. How I started to fall in love with him._

_Oh god, my hands are sweating now and I can’t even hold the pen right. I’m realizing now that Damian is going to read this..._

_I guess I’m no longer addressing this to ‘Diary’. This is for you, Damian._

_I love you. If you read from the first entry, you’ll know how it started, and I know it’s kinda dumb haha. But I really do love you. Sometimes too much that it hurts and I can’t sleep at night. Whenever I see you, I imagine a future where I’ll get to see your smiling face beside me for the rest of my life. I want to hold your hand like we did when we were kids and didn’t know any better. I want to kiss your cheek again like I did before everyone decided it was too weird for two grown boys to kiss each other. I just want to love you and be with you._

_I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same, I just hope you won't see me differently, or avoid me. It’s okay if you reject me, or stay away from me for a few weeks, maybe, I just hope we can stay friends. Even though we won't be more than friends, I’ll take what you offer. No matter what, I’ll be your best friend, and nothing can change that but you._

_I’m probably too nervous to see you. So, put this in my backpack for a no, and put it in my locker for a yes._

_Feel free to write a reply. I’ll be waiting.’_

Damian chuckles that it soon turns into a full wet laugh. He closes the book with a content smile on his face. Now he’s ready to meet Jon.

He walks around the back of the house.

The sunflowers are taken care of now since the Kents have moved in here. Back then, they were short enough to hide between the dense bright green stems rise high into the sky and sunflowers facing the sun.

The dirt pathway that splits the field in the middle leads to a big oak tree at the end of the lane. It’s rooted right at the feet of the knolls that still count as Kent’s property. It hasn’t changed since he last saw it as if stuck in time, or as if the years that have passed were nothing but a blink for the ancient tree. It has the same branches and the same leaves as Damian remembered.

On summer breaks, when it was too hot to stay indoors, he and Jon would sit under that tree’s shadow with cold beverages and Lois’ apple pie with ice cream on top. Talking about nonsense, drawing, or playing with dirt, sticks and stones. It was all nonsensical for Damian who always thought that he was an adult at an early age, but he enjoyed letting himself do unproductive fun stuff with Jon and not being ridiculed. Then at night, they would climb to the top of the knoll and camp there, roast marshmallows and watch the stars.

In this farm, at that time, he was a child. He was having fun.

Under the tall oak tree, the lights passing its many branches and leaves would land on his face, as he laid there beside Jon. Often, he would look to his side, and see Jon’s seraphic face blushing from the heat. 

His blue irises glittered like diamonds. A smile that would outshine the Sun. Jon was beautiful.

Stepping into the shadow of the mighty tree, Damian felt his heart drop in the soft pasture beneath his feet. With shaking breath, he’s putting all his strength into holding onto Jon’s diary. 

“Hello, Jon,” Damian whispered under his breath.

Despite the pain, Damian couldn’t even express a tinge of it. It’s really been too long since he last visited this place.

On the trimmed grass, Damian kneels in front of Jon’s headstone. The upright monument bevels from the five-centimeter base that’s surrounded by wildflowers. It has a design of light grey granite with gold linings and Jon’s name in white. Flowers carved at the top of the headstone that reach just below Damian’s chest. 

His name is looking towards the fields where they spent their childhood. It’s a perfect place filled with memories for Jon to rest in. Where he has sun, stars, nature and family always by his side.

The day is bright and sunny without any clouds in the sky. The sun is shining on the petals of the sunflowers. They are all looking up to the sun, bringing out their golden hue.

“Is this why you came to my dreams? To make me come here and give you my reply?” Damian asked the nothingness, and no one answered. 

No one is here, but Damian gives Jon what he wanted anyway.

“Since I was born, I was given purposes, duties, a place to fill and expectations to meet. I have the name, and resources to get there. Most people approach me to have that benefit from me, and I only tend to those who I can also benefit from. You are someone who asks nothing of me but my company. Not my name, not my position, not my privileges, not my responsibilities, not my resources, just me. Everything I own, I borrowed or owed from my family and ancestors. But you? You’ve been mine from the moment you held my hand when you thought I wouldn’t notice. When you kissed my cheek before you were too ashamed to be seen by others.”

The afternoon sun is too dazzling, and his vision starts to blur. So, Damian closes his eyes, and his knees give up, making him sit instead.

“If you had asked for my love, I would’ve given it to you in a heartbeat.” Damian sighed, and all the strength left his body with his breath. “I would’ve stayed here forever if you wanted me to, but when you left, it was painful to stay. So I ran away from this place.”

The lights are getting too bright, he’s starting to lose his balance. His head lolling from side to side, he suddenly feels tired. He scoots forward a bit and lies down on the grass beside Jon. Looking up to the veined branches and tiny dense leaves. A few lights breach through. They look like dots, shining like bright light stars. Jon and Damian used to pretend they’re a constellation made for them.

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited, I couldn’t... I was scared too.”

He doesn’t know when he closed his eyes, but when the lights return, he is no longer at the back of Kent’s farm under the oak tree.

It is the school hallway. They’re in their middle school uniform. The bell just rang so there were no kids around. They’re talking as they are going to their separate classes.

One thing led to another, and Jon asked, “Hey Dami? Where are you planning to go for university?”

“We haven't even finished middle school yet.”

“Humor me! Just wanna know.”

“My mother’s chosen that for me already, probably somewhere in Britain.”

“Wh-what? That far?” Jon was, for lack of a better word, caught off guard like it’s so far from what he expected.

“Yes, I don’t have control over that.”

“But why? I thought your mom lets you do stuff on your own now.”

Damian laughed out loud, “Hell would freeze before that happens. Al-Ghuls shape their children as the previous generation sees fit. It was done for my mother by my grandfather, and it is done for me by her. Soon, with the fiancée of her choice, I will have a child of my own and shape them.”

“Fi-fiancée?”

“Yes, I’ve met her. She’s older than me by four years. We’ll marry when I have come of age and established a position in the League of Al-Ghuls, and you, of course, without a doubt will be my best man. There’s a list of accomplishment of what I need to do from the moment I was born. The Al-Ghul family line is prestigious, and I can’t say I’m pressured when I can execute every expectation perfectly without a struggle. But, I’m pushing my mother’s patience for staying here until high school. So I have to meet her demands for university no-”

Damian realized after a few steps of his own that Jon didn’t follow. When he turned around, Jon had tears raining cats and dogs from his sky-blue orbs. Hand clenched into a shaking fist, Jon pursed his lips and looks at Damian as if one of them just died.

Never in their years of friendship did Damian made Jon cry, not even when Damian had pushed Jon away before.

Seeing Jon cry as if the world was falling apart, Damian didn’t know what to say. He wanted to apologize but he didn’t know what he did wrong. So, Damian did what he could do. They skipped class for the first time, and slipped into the empty gymnasium. They were alone and sat by the bleachers. Damian put his arms around Jon’s shoulder as long as he cried.

There are so many different things Damian wanted to ask, say, and do.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Damian asked what he didn’t get to say back then.

Little 15-year-old Jon looks at him, “No, Dami... I’m just afraid.”

“You claim to know me but you don't! I don’t want to lose you too!” Damian exclaimed. His words echoed meaninglessly in his ears, remembering the scene that’s long passed.

Jon said nothing. He had said nothing for a long time back then, just crying on his shoulder as Damian foolishly keeps silent.

A bright light flashed across his eyes and everything is white. When color returns, Jon is no longer in his arms.

He was in the school hallway. He remembered this feeling of dread cooking in his gut that tells him to turn around and leave, but he wanted to see Jon more. To confront him about why he cried after his restlessness was finally able to break his apathy.

It was their first day of school in 2011 after the New Year’s holiday. Damian remembered it like it just happened yesterday. He was –despite his disdain of breaking the rules- running down the halls because he woke up late. Alfred had thought he was sick and let him be, but what happened was, Damian couldn’t sleep because he was nervous about asking Jon why he cried. It bothered him until Damian finally felt that enough is enough. He needed to talk to Jon about it, and he was psyching himself to do it till 3 am.

While he was running to his class, he heard a loud bang from the end of the hall. Children were screaming as the continuous sound of what Damian had identified as gunshots, fired repeatedly like a machine gun.

Damian had just arrived, he’s near the exit and he easily turned around and ran out of the building.

There’re a lot of kids following him to run outside in panic and on their phones, Damian did that too. And the first one he called was Jon, who doesn’t pick up. Then he tried Clark, which went to voicemail, and then he tried Lois who finally picked up.

“Lois? Where’s Jon? There’s a shooting happening, don’t come!”

“Oh, Oh dear God.., I’ve already dropped him to school.”

Damian blanked out, and the next thing he did was run back into the school building the same way he came out. Jon had AP Science for the first period, and Damian ran towards that class without a second thought.

There’s laughter drawing closer down the hall mixed with pleading and cries. Quickly, before the voice gets any closer, Damian hides in the janitor’s closet with the louvered door.

He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears when the weight of the situation finally dawned on him. There’s a killer on the loose, and they have guns. From the shots that were fired, and the sudden silence, there’s a possibility that someone could’ve already...

Damian heard screaming and running steps drawing closer.

From the space between the parallel bars on the door, Damian peeks out into the halls, seeing a couple of students running and passing. But before they could disappear from Damian’s eyesight, shots fired, and red dots appear on their back before they fall flat on the floor.

A boy giggling maniacally ran past the hall holding an assault rifle. The boy was a senior, someone from Damian’s class. The gunshots continue, followed by children screaming, but it’s farther now. Damian’s fear for his life redirected to his fear for Jon’s life. Once again, he tries calling Jon’s phone as he steps out of the closet. The gunshots were far away now, and the school was awfully quiet.

At long last, he finally hears Jon’s ringtone.

Damian runs as quickly as he can, towards the voice of the ringtone that is far away from the gunshot.

When he finally reaches Jon’s class, which is empty, he sighs in relief.

They had an emergency exit plan in case of disasters happened. Damian follows the sign that hangs from the ceiling and follows the pathway to the exit. The more he runs, the more bodies he finds. His eyes dart around the barely developed bodies lying lifeless in their own pool of blood spilled on the white tiles.

Damian tries calling Jon’s phone again.

He heard his ring tone. A melancholic piano and a voice singing gently with his smooth voice. Damian sought that familiar melody in the dead silence of the hallway.

It was Jon’s favorite song, one among many on the CD they often play on a portable CD player when they go camping. The song calmed him, making him focused as his feet step over the bodies in the halls. On accident, his feet step in blood once too many times in his horror. Reciting the lyrics helps him from breaking down.

“I-I'll find repose in new ways though I haven't slept in two days, cause cold nostalgia chills me to the bone. But drenched in van-n-nilla twilight, I'll sit on the front porch all night. Waist deep in thought because when I think of you I don't feel so alone. I don't feel so alone...”

The song was finally loud and clear. He made a turn to the left, and the exit is right at the end of that hall. Bodies lied right before the exit, those were people who didn’t make it.

Vanilla twilight is still playing, and he knows where it’s from. A dim light shines through a front trouser pocket in one of the bodies lying down the halls.

Damian hangs up, and the light goes out too.

What was he hoping for when Damian walked closer to that body? The black-haired boy looks away from him as if sparing him, giving him a chance to look away. But Damian persists, walking towards the body that lies still on the floor with two growing red spots on his chest. Kneeling beside the body, right in the pool of red. With trembling hands, Damian slowly cups his face and turns it to face him.

The skin was still warm to the touch, and the face that he adores with its soft features doesn’t even move the tiniest muscle. A few strands of his soft curls stick on his face. A pair of unmoving eyes stare back at Damian, a haunting sight of how empty they are.

Every drop of blood in Damian’s body turns cold. His hands tremble as he holds Jon’s face. A light came into view from the end of the hall right in front of him. He saw Jon’s pupils constrict when the light hits.

“Jon?” Damian called, rubbing his face gently, but Jon still doesn’t move at all.

The next thing he knows he’s being lifted by the stomach and a lot of grown-ups are yelling and coming out of the light.

Whatever their face looks like, it’s blurry. Whatever they said, it’s wispy. What’s clear as day is Jon’s eyes on him as Damian is being taken away.

“Wait!” He hears himself say, “Don’t take me away, let me stay here. Jon!” No one hears him.

He was a light tween and in shock, he barely put up a fight. His hands reached out to Jon, but the man that carried him ignored his plea.

It was the last time Damian ever saw Jon.

Damian didn’t even walk up to his casket at the funeral home. He didn’t want to see Jon with his eyes closed.

After he finished middle school, he left to Saudi Arabia, continuing the task his mother's planned for him ever since he was in her stomach. It served as Damian’s goal, a distraction, something to occupy his mind with.

Years passed and he’s married to his work more than he is to his wife. To be fair, so is she. He rarely stays long in Gotham. Only a day or two for business trips, and he leaves as soon as he can. It became a habit to avoid ever coming to Gotham.

Damian was raised like an heir, but Jon made him feel human, a kid, a teenager. The first person that ever made him feel like, well, a regular person. He got a taste of family and love. Jon taught him that it’s not shameful to be vulnerable. For the first time, Damian felt happy. Not accomplished after succeeding a task. Not relieved when he didn’t make a mistake. Just pure happiness.

There’s nothing left in this city if Jon is not here.

That is, until the dreams of him crying, like he’s trying to take him back here.

Damian had felt numb since Jon left. He doesn’t let himself remember the bad or the end, only the good.

He doesn’t let himself miss Jon.

But he did. Every single day since that day there has been a hole in the shape of him in Damian’s chest. And every day since that day, Damian had gotten better at ignoring it.

Even so, the past still caught up to him. Damian still can’t forget, and he can’t pretend it didn’t happen anymore.

Damian wakes up sobbing, crouching in a fetal position towards Jon’s grave. His tears flow like rivers on a rainy day. Tucked his head in his knees, Damian hugs himself as he cries out his chest over his loss after ten years of keeping it in his tight lidded heart.

A hand lands on his back, and slowly, Damian looks up and sees Lois with a slight curl on her lips and sad doe eyes.

“Did you ever say goodbye?”

“I didn’t want to, I didn’t want to let him go.” Damian croaks.

Lois pulls his arms up, catches him in a hug and Damian is quick to return it. Her long fingers rub the top of Damian’s head in slow languid movement, rocking him slightly side to side.

“I think you’re here for a reason,” Lois comforts, “Why else would you come after ten years without looking back?”

Damian looks over her shoulder, to the fields of sunflowers that face west, to the glow that starts to turn orange.

“The dreams. I dreamt of him crying. I just... wanted to say I’m sorry for making him cry.”

“But my son died.”

“Not to me,” Damian persists, and immediately realizes what he just said, “I never... It all happened so quickly. I saw him the day before, I was here with you and Clark and Jon to see fireworks, and the next day he... I just can’t... I’m not ready to let him go just yet, Lois I can’t--”

“I know, Damian. Believe me, I know how it felt... But you’ve met now, you’re here.” Lois keeps rubbing his back.

“Do... Do you think he brought me here?”

Lois chuckled, and it puts a weak smile on Damian’s face too. “He wanted you to know how he felt, he wanted you to mourn him, and he knows the only one that can bring you to do that, is himself.”

Jon’s cries in his memory had brought him here. Maybe the sudden reminder is not a coincidence. The sunset grows dark, and after taking a deep slow breath, Damian closes his eyes. His mind takes him back to the last scene of his dream.

The memory didn’t change, nor was it a mere dream. He can’t forget the last day he saw Jon like it’s a cursed blessing.

But now, with his eyes closed and Lois’s smell that’s familiar to Jon’s, he remembers that moment even clearer and with more details.

A police officer was the one that carried Damian out of the hallways filled with dead kids. Paramedics run in from the opposite way of where he was taken. One of them kneels beside Jon’s body, while his eyes are still at him, shining like the lake under the blue sky, like how Jon always sees him. The paramedic pressed their fingers on Jon’s neck and started to press the wounds. Jon’s eyelids twitched like a dying flutter of butterfly wings still trying to fly. And Damian sees that, sees that Jon is still alive as he was taken.

_ Do you know why I always smiled, Damian? He hears Jon say, but his lips don’t move. _

In their last moment together, even as they’re being separated, they get to see each other one last time. With the last energy he had, though it was weak and faint, Jon was smiling at him.

_ Because I was with you. _

Damian breathes in as he opens his eyes to meet the sunset again, and tears roll down to Lois’ shoulder. Was he imagining his voice? Somehow, for whatever the answer is, Damian accepts it.

“Lois, he was alive.”

“He was critical when the paramedics found him, there’s nothing they could’ve done,” Lois corrected, her voice cracks, “And I’m glad you’re the last thing he saw.”

Slowly, she retracts just enough to hold Damian’s face and wipes his wet cheeks with her thumbs. She looked just like Jon. His look of compassion, feminine nose and those earnest blue eyes, all he got from her.

“What am I going to do now?” Damian faltered.

“You’re going to cry your heart out until it’s satisfied, and then, you move on.”

Damian bites his lips, and eyes pool with a new wave of tears, “I don’t want to forget him.”

“I’m not telling you to. Moving on is not forgetting. It’s coming to terms with loss, and when you remember him, it won’t hurt as much. It’s going to be a long process, especially when you never even started. But you’re welcome to come and talk to him, or just to visit me and Clark. You’re not alone, we’re going to be fine.”

What Lois said is just still too hard to accept, but the one who was weeping the most was her when she drove to the school right after Damian’s call and sees Jon’s body in a bag. If she can do it, maybe it’s worth a try for Damian.

“Thank you, Lois... Can you leave me with him for a bit, please?”

“Of course sweetheart,” She complied, patting Damian on the back before she stands up and leaves.

Damian takes his attention to the knoll behind him. It’s lush from the bottom to the top. When he looks up, the gaps between leaves and branches no longer glare with light like stars since the sun is setting. The sunflower fields are dense and healthy, and the pasture around them is lush, pillowy and green. It’s a pretty sight, one that’ll never be the same.

Damian looks down to the placard on Jon’s headstone.

“Thank you for telling me,” Damian traces the name Jonathan Samuel Kent on the placard. “Thank you for bringing me here,” his fingers move down to the year, 1995 – 2011.

“My life was a script. I never minded it, but when I saw you, smiling without a care in the world, it made me feel that happiness too. For a short moment, my mind went, oh, this is not so bad, maybe I wanted this. I see you, and I see and feel... freedom, that I can choose you instead of what’s chosen for me. I found happiness with you... but you left before I get to say it, before I even knew what that feeling meant.”

His tears roll down again, even after the storm he shed, somehow he still has another coming. This is the most he cried in all his life. Ten years worth of sorrow and despair. There’s going to be more of these in the future, he’ll have a hard time sleeping, and he’ll cry whenever he re-read his diary, or see their picture in his old room.

Yet somehow, Damian finds himself cracking a smile as he looks down to Jon’s grave. When he remembers Jon crying in his dreams, he doesn’t feel guilty anymore. Even though he knows Jon cried because of him, evidently, it was no one’s fault.

Jon cried because he loved him.

“I loved you too, Jonathan Kent.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you thinkk?

**Author's Note:**

> [find me on tumblr!](https://emotionalcello-makefanfics.tumblr.com/)
> 
> What do ya think?


End file.
